"Anderson, Poul - Genesis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

The three had in fact been very kind when they invited Wei, an old friend, to share the booth and its superb observation facilities. Maybe now, too late, they realized that Arkezhan was making it a mistake. Wei bit the inside of his lip. He would not embarrass them.
"You have my thanks for agreeing, sir," he said more loudly. Swinging his chair around, he saluted the Regnant. "And all gratitude always to his gracious Radiance." The formula tasted foul in his mouth.
Had he known beforehand that the Regnant would attend, he would probably have declined the invitation. Some heads of state in the past had observed a few contests, but usually this one appeared just at the opening of the Games. For that matter, the Supreme Steward did not necessarily oversee any particular event in person, though every judgment booth kept a seat and viewer for him. Who had persuaded these two to be here, and how and why?
Maybe they were honestly interested. Auvade had a great many devotees, not only throughout Tahalla but around all Earth and among what humans still lived elsewhere in the Solar System; probably millions were watching today.
Wei couldn't tell. The Regnant sat impassive on the throne extruded for him, above and behind the Supreme Steward's chair. Scarcely a fold of his robe and chasuble or plume of his headdress stirred.
Jon broke a lengthening silence. "With reverence, your Radiance, with respect, my lord, the time draws nigh."
"Indeed," Arkezhan said. "I regret, my lord Wei, we cannot hear your doubtless fascinating conversation. I am sure you would have told us much about the wonders of young-Niho? No, I beg your pardon, the name is Mikel, am I correct? Instead, we must witness them ourselves." He bowed to the Regnant. "Have I the permission of the Presence to take my place?"
A hand lifted and fell again. Arkezhan sat down. "Let the honors begin," he said. Amplified, the words boomed forth.
Trumpets resounded. Spectators roared. The diffused blue in the sunshade became a gigantic view of the board.
For a moment there was motionlessness. Each team had had its conferences, planning strategy and tactics to minimize its losses and maximize those of the others, until the last survivors belonged only to it; but now the reality was upon them.
Then a Sirian Star ran one tile forward along the straight line permitted him and stopped. A Planet came diagonally from either side to stand in front; two Moons made their three zigzags to take flanking positions, and two Meteors overleaped-passed across tiles occupied by a friendly player-to threaten Altair on the right and Betelgeuse on the left. The Comets stayed in reserve. This maneuver was classic, creating a strong defensive formation. The Sirians across from them advanced aggressively, though not far since they did not know who their opponents would be.
Those had begun somewhat similarly. An Altairian Star dashed ahead to the middle of the board and halted. A Betelgeusean Planet took the bait and slanted onto the same tile. They saluted one another. The Star advanced. The Planet sought to take the attack on his hip and throw his opponent, who would automatically lose if he crossed an edge of this tile. But the latter shifted direction, turned on one heel, got his other ankle behind the former's, and pushed. The Planet caught the Star's arm. Both lurched, neither went down. They broke apart, considered the situation, and sidled back in again. Abruptly the Planet went down onto the resilient surface, the Star on top, pinning him. They separated, rose, and bowed. The Planet retired from the game. Immediately, a Sirian Moon arrived. Given the advantage of freshness, he took the position.
Bouts had been erupting elsewhere. It was no melee. A player looked at the overall scene displayed overhead, decided as best he could what move might best help his team, and tried to make it and win it.
"What, does Comet Mikel still dawdle?" said Arkezhan. "Does he wait for rivals to exhaust each other?" He clicked his tongue. "It is no real service, it certainly gives no glory, although it may make his individual performance seem better than otherwise."
"He plans-" Wei Belov broke off. He should no longer speak in this place.
After a few more minutes Mikel did advance, choosing two tiles sideways and one forward, then one oppositely sideways and two Forward, out of the moves allowed him. It brought him to an Altairian Moon. They engaged. He prevailed. The Moon withdrew.
Mikel paused, peering upward. He was about to advance on a Betelgeusean Comet-at least, that seemed to be his optimum tactic-when a Betelgeusean Meteor took him by surprise. If they reached an edge of the board, Meteors could cross back to the opposite edge and proceed from there, as if the two sides were contiguous. However, they must move in straight lines and, unlike Stars, cross no more than six tiles before stopping, unless and until I hey were victorious at their end point.
Mikel barely gave him courtesy. They grappled ungracefully. The Meteor fell, though merely onto his rear. Mikel leaped and forced his shoulders to the ground. He conceded and left. By then, of course, the situation elsewhere had changed and Mikel's earlier idea was of no use.
"Poor, poor form," said Arkezhan. "Score his team down."
"My lord," protested Ibram, "the action was not very esthetic, lint I found no real fault."
"Nor I," added Malena. Jon could say nothing, his attention having been on others.
"Did you not observe how he butted with his arms and fumbled with his hands?" Arkezhan replied. "Score his team down, I say. Three points." Each counted as a man lost, which might force the Sirians out of the game early, and the record would show this was due to Mikel Belov.
"One at most, my lord," Malena argued. "Few actions are ever perfectly executed."
"Three."
Nobody refused. Arkezhan was Supreme Steward, after all; and the designated stewards had plenty else to grip their attention; and markdowns, frequent enough in any closely refereed contest, canceled each other by apportionment among the two rival groups.
Wei's mouth drew tight.
The auvade went on. The spectators yelled, waved kerchiefs and flags, pranced on their benches when someone's idol was victorious.
"Behold what an opportunity our Mikel Belov missed," said Arkezhan after some minutes. "If he had taken that Altairian Planet, a Betelgeusean Comet would have been open to attack by an Altairian Star. However that encounter came out, there would have been one less survivor for the Sirians to meet."
"Yes," admitted Ibram. He studied the skyscene. "Easy for us to see. But who in the midst of an engagement can survey it all?"
"Competent players can, to a considerable extent. Of course, possibly our brave little Comet did not choose to meet the Planet, who does appear quite formidable."
Malena scowled into her viewer. "My lord, you seem determined to pursue this man," she said. "We have others to watch as well."
"Of course. I would not criticize your decisions, my lady and my lords. But you must agree that certain players require more zealous monitoring than most. For the good of the game."
"My lord, I do not feel that Mikel Belov is among them."
Arkezhan shrugged. "Well, you may be right, my lady. You are old acquaintance with his family, are you not? Very close old acquaintance."
Malena stiffened.
"If you please, my lord," said Jon, ice in his voice.
Arkezhan raised his palms. "Oh, no, no! I would never imply, nor imagine for an instant, that my lady or either of my lords would heed any offer that any player's father may have made."
Wei snapped after air. The Regnant sat expressionless. The stewards could not respond, for the game was becoming ever more rapid and complex.
Suddenly Arkezhan raised his eyes from his own viewer and cried, "A foul, a foul!"
"What?" The stewards' heads jerked about toward him.
"Did you miss it? When Mikel Belov met that Altairian Moon just now, he grabbed after the man's groin."
Wei's knuckles whitened on the arms of his chair.
Malena forgot civility. "He did not."
"Were you watching him, my lady?" Arkezhan replied. "You have the entire board to follow. I choose to focus on where my suspicions lie."
Wei half rose. Ibram said hastily, "My lord the Supreme Steward probably missaw, as can happen to anyone. We will replay the encounter in slow motion if he insists."
Arkezhan smiled. "No need, my lord. I will accept your judgment.
Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps in the excitement I confused a tendency with an intent."
Wei got to his feet. His face was blanched. "Sir," he said word by word, "I trust that that remark was inadvertent and you will retract it and apologize."
The stewards kept their gazes on the viewers, scanning to and fro, as duty required; but Malena blurted, "Your Radiance has heard-" She broke off, appalled at herself.
The Regnant sat unstirring.